


A Pocket Full of Posie

by HidingColors



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, WIP, Warnings May Change, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-06 21:31:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HidingColors/pseuds/HidingColors
Summary: Neil's deal with the Moriyamas is just the beginning of his new life. If he thought that all he'd have to worry about was Exy, he has another thing coming.Fires, road trips, gang wars, and guns are all in Neil's not too distant future. But, hey, at least he has one. And at least he's not alone.





	1. Ashes, ashes...

 

As the smoke curled and plumed and flames licked the sides of Fox Tower, shooting out like a snake’s tongue, Neil could not say he felt surprised. He did not think,  _“Of course, all good things end in flames,”_ and thoughts of his mother were pushed to the back of his mind as he concentrated on his breath coming in and out, on convulsively squeezing the Exy racket in his hand, and tugging the strap of the duffle bag on his shoulder.

 It was supposed to be the start of summer practices for the Foxes. Neil had only moved over to the dorm from Wymack’s the day before with Andrew, the cousins and Kevin. None of them had been in the dorm that morning, Kevin having left for the court before Neil had left for his run, and the cousins were meeting with Aaron’s lawyer. The rest of the Foxes were scheduled to arrive later that afternoon.

The smoke was shielding Neil’s view of most of the flames, but he could feel the heat and knew that it was all gone. The fire trucks had arrived some time ago, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at the dorm. By the time they’d eventually move on from containing the spread of the fire to actually extinguishing it, there’d be nothing left inside but melted metal, singed mini-fridges, and heaps of ash. 

Among the rubble would be a small pile of that ash in what was once Neil’s dresser. That pile was once worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. 

Neil cursed himself again, cursed the lacrosse player that had stopped him from re-entering the building a third time. He didn’t need all of that money. He didn’t need the contacts. Those were not for Neil Josten to even think about. 

He clutched his Exy racket again, knuckles turning white, the feeling of blisters screaming in protest familiar enough to keep him grounded. The racket was all he needed, truly. He had a meal plan paid for by his scholarship, which would hold him over until he could get more cash. He’d survive this small set-back. 

But as he watched the building burn, he couldn’t help but think that all of this made sense. In a gut stabbing, chest tearing kind of way. This was exactly what he should have expected. And the loss of his binder was further proof of that. 

He should have put it in the safe. He _would_  have put it in the safe, but Kevin had taken one look at the binder as they unpacked and started cursing at Neil in French to just get rid of it already. In all the confusion, Neil had shoved it into a drawer with the promise of ‘reorganizing’ it later. It was incredibly, pathetically, incomprehensibly stupid. And here was the cost. 

“Goddamit, Neil, did you forget how to use a phone?” Wymack’s voice made its way into Neil’s mind, but he couldn’t understand the question. He felt his duffle slip off his shoulder, but let it hang where it landed. The entire sky had turned a dark, claustrophobic grey. His chest burned. 

“Look at me, Neil. Josten!”

Neil lurched and faced his coach. He immediately reached for the duffle to secure it on his body.

Wymack’s jaw tightened until he said, “Have you called anyone?"

Neil gestured to the flames, “I don’t think that’s going to be possible anymore, Coach.” He’d left his cellphone inside. He couldn’t say that he was particularly upset by that oversight. 

Wymack shook his head. “Come on, you’re going to die of smoke inhalation if you stand this close."

“I won’t."

Wymack stood in front of Neil, blocking his view of the dorm. “Let’s go,” he said. 

Neil hadn’t realized that the ache in his chest had been fury, but it rose in him now like a fringed whip against his whole body. “They did this, coach. This wasn’t an accident.” He could feel blood in his mouth from where he must have bitten his cheek. He knew the voice he was using, knew it was a cold, frightening sound.

Wymack didn’t flinch, didn’t look surprised. Maybe he had put it all together already. “Kevin is waiting across the street. Come on, Josten."

“No.” 

“The fuck will standing here watching the place crumble down, do? If you can’t breathe at the next practice because of all this shit in your lungs, you’ll be kicking yourself and Dan will have your ass."

Neil looked down at his racket There was blood on it. He raised it closer to his face to see it better, but it was only his own blood. Likely from a burst blister. 

“You have five seconds before I drag your ass out of here and make your sit out the first game, vice-captain or not."

Neil felt like a child. _It's not fair_. He wanted to say. Instead, he turned and spotted Kevin on the field across the street, still in his practice clothes. As they walked to meet him, Neil focused on steadying his voice into something more recognizable and said, “The rest of the rackets are still in Andrew’s trunk."

“I swear to fuck, Josten, you better not have stayed in a burning building just to check on sticks that are already insured."

“They’re insured?” 

Wymack looked over his shoulder as a car puled up next to them. Abby barely had her car stopped before she threw it into park and jumped out of the door. 

“Let her check you,” Wymack said, and Neil could recognize an order when he heard it.

Doesn’t mean he was inclined to obey. “I’m fine, they already checked me out. I was barely inside long enough to do damage."

Wymack pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I don’t care. I don’t care who did what. Abby, don’t let him out of your sight until you’re convinced he’s as healthy as two goddamn race horses. And then take him to your house for a shower."

“I showered this morning,” Neil protested, eyeing Abby’s medical kit.

“You’re covered in a layer of soot.” Kevin said dryly. Neil finally turned to look at him. He was watching Neil cautiously, and Neil wondered if Kevin somehow knew what he had lost. He couldn’t blame Kevin. This was all on Neil. 

He didn’t need it. 

Kevin reached out as if to touch Neil’s face, but Neil swatted his hand away. 

“I have to go,” Neil said. He needed to find a payphone. He needed to talk to the one person who could fix this. 

“I already called Andrew, they are on their way back from the lawyer’s"

“Andrew? What does he have to do with anything?” 

Kevin frowned at him. Neil was met with the uncomfortable feeling that he had missed something, but he pushed that away. It was a familiar enough sting. 

“I thought they weren’t getting back until noon?” 

Kevin stared for a moment too long, and the sting pushed deeper. “It’s nearly twelve-thirty."

Neil’s grabbed at Kevin’s wrist and pulled it to him to read the watch. An hour had passed that he hadn’t been aware of. He watched the seconds tick by as a lump rose to his throat, a coldness sweeping through him.

Abby’s voice was soft in his ear,“Adrenaline and trauma can cause loss of time. It is completely normal."

His breathing normalized once the second hand passed the 12 for the third time, and he finally let go of Kevin’s arm. 

They were all watching him, but Neil turned to Wymack, a self-destructive need wanting to see the knowing pity in his eyes. “I have to go,” he repeated. 

“Of course he does,” a bored voice said from behind him. Neil turned to see Andrew and the cousins approaching them. “But how will you run without your shoes, Neil?"

Neil looked down at his feet. He had forgotten he was barefooted. He looked back at the dorm one more time, and considered that whoever had woken up in his bed that morning, it wasn’t him. 

“Abby?” Andrew was saying, staring at Neil. “Any damage?"

“I’m right here, Andrew."

Andrew ignored him. Abby looked between them for a moment, and then answered, “He won’t let me check him.” 

“I’m fi—not injured."

Andrew clucked his tongue, raising an eyebrow at Neil. “Aaron, as a medical student, how promising do you find Neil’s future as a nurse?"

Aaron gave a tight lipped grin, crossing his arms, “I wouldn’t let him put a bandaid on my blister,"

“Maybe if you learned how to hold a stick properly, and less like a gangling orangutan, you wouldn’t have so many blisters,” Neil spat.

Aaron sneered at him but Nicky gave a wobbly chuckle and said, “I think that means he’s fine."

Andrew looked as if he had barely heard what the others were saying. “Abby, Neil and I will meet you at your house in fifteen minutes."

“The court is better,” Abby said. “I have more supplies there."

Andrew nodded curtly and turned to Nicky, throwing him his keys. In German, he said “Leave. Take Kevin if Coach doesn’t want him. Go to the mall.” 

Then he turned on his heel and started walking in the direction of the Foxhole Court. Neil watched him leave, and knew that in truth, Andrew was giving him a choice. He could stay with Coach and Abby, or he could follow Andrew. The third choice, _run_ , was there too, bigger than them all and more tempting than it had been in months. But he recognized that the beast in his chest had tempered in the last few minutes, that the thoughts coursing through his mind had managed to focus on solutions rather than mere survival. He followed Andrew. 

Andrew led them through the park, along Neil’s running route instead of along the streets. It was the longer way. Andrew let him chew on his thoughts only for the first quarter mile, then he took a turn off the dirt path and led him to a section of boulders piled almost as high as the trees. He sat on one of them, where he would be hidden from anyone walking along the path. 

“Talk,” he said. 

Neil tossed his Exy stick from hand to hand, working his jaw roughly enough that he was sure Andrew could hear it grinding.

“I froze,” he admitted. There was no relief in sharing this secret, only the return of the whip-like anger as he realized the truth of it. He lifted his racket to rest behind his neck, pulled his eyes down to watch a worm drying at his feet.  “I’ve never— that doesn’t happen to me."

Andrew gave him only a moment to sit in his shame before sliding farther down the rock to put his hand in Neil’s line of vision. Neil recognized it immediately as the same tool he often employed to distract Andrew from his venomous anger when he wasn’t sure if it was okay to touch. Only then did he realize Andrew’s hands had hardly moved from his sides since he’d returned. The surprise of this consideration was enough to shock Neil away from the poison in his head. He put his racket to the side and sat down in front of Andrew, searching his eyes for what he was feeling. There was a quickness in his gaze that belied his bored expression, and a dimple in his forehead that Neil had only ever seen a few times before, in times of great stress. Neil brought a thumb up until it was hovering over the dipped skin. Andrew, eyes still on Neil, leaned into it. 

“I’m not hurt. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. He hadn’t been sure, even until then, that it was the truth, but with Andrew’s warm skin under his hand, he knew that this was where he needed to be. 

They sat like that for a few minutes, eyes sharing what their voices could not, breath steadying to match the others’. 

“Was it your mother or Lola?” Andrew finally asked. He meant Neil freezing during the fire. 

Neil swallowed, feeling how dry his mouth was. “I don’t know. I wish I did."

“You are around smoke everyday. It must have been the flames."

Neil nodded. It made sense. But it didn’t make it easier. Running was what he was good at, his reflexes were one of his best skills. It wasn’t funny, but he felt a smile cut across his face anyway. “Maybe you were right. Maybe I do have terrible survival instincts."

Andrew tensed beneath him, but slid even closer before Neil could pull away. “You survived this, just as you survived every other knife, flame, or bullet that has come at you."

Neil shook his head, “I don’t know if….”

Stomach churning ruefully, he slid his duffle bag off his shoulder and emptied the contents on the patch of moss next to them. It was just a pair of socks and Andrew’s knives that he had left behind when they met the lawyer at the court that morning. Andrew picked up the knives and the clothes, looking at the duffle as if expecting more. 

“The binder,” he said. “Was it in the safe?"

If it had been in the safe, it might have been recoverable. “No."

“It’s just money. I have money. Unless you’re crying about losing your fan photos of Riko—"

“It was more than money in there.” It was what was supposed to be his future, his second chance. It was everything his mother had left him.”I had a second chance, too, I almost left without anything in the bag at all, without my stick."

“So you went back in?” Andrew asked cooly. 

“I thought the binder was already in the bag, that’s where it’s supposed to be when we have to get out fast.”

Andrew lifted the knives and held them in the few inches of space between their faces so Neil had to remove his hand from Andrew. Then he threw them behind Neil as if they were someone else’s trash. “I should break your stick in two."

“Don’t.”

“Don’t go back into a burning building for things that have no more value than a piece of paper."

“Next time I won’t."

He'd meant it as a joke, but Andrew’s features only tightened. “104%."

Neil sighed and went to collect the knives. “They’re technically Renee’s."

“Put on those socks. I don’t want to hear you complaining for the next week because you scraped your foot."

“You’re the one that gave Nicky your car keys."

“I’m not letting you into my car until you’ve showered. Twice."

“Is that an invitation?"

“ _Twice_."

* * *

Once Abby gave him the all clear, she told Neil and Andrew that the rest of the Foxes would be gathering at Wymack’s, and that she’d meet them there after checkin on all the other athletes. 

Neil was thankful that none of the other Foxes had arrived yet. He was able to shower away the layer of grey that had started to make him itch. Once the water turned clear, he put the heat up until it burned his skin, and leaned his forehead against the tile wall. 

He was stranger to neither fear nor trauma. He knew the taste of adrenaline better than his own blood, than Andrew’s mouth. These things were his playmates since childhood. Yet, he hadn’t been able to get even his fingertip to move, and, once he had, he couldn’t get his mind to focus on what was important, on the reality of the task at hand. It was not his brush with death, if this could even be called that, that was making his insides tear themselves apart, but the realization that he had failed. He had changed into something his mother would be ashamed of, that she wouldn’t even recognize. 

He sighed and told himself that  _this_  was his new way of surviving. He had taken a different path, but it had all been so that he could live the life he wanted. He was right, he was right, he was right. 

The door crashed open and Neil’s arm flung out for the nearest weapon. It was only Andrew. 

Neil knew something was wrong and searched Andrew’s face for the answer, belatedly realizing that someone had been calling his name from outside the door just seconds before. 

“You’re going to shrivel up if you stay in there any longer."

Neil swallowed. “How long?"

“An hour.”

Andrew locked the door behind him, took off his shoes and socks. Neil lowered the heat to a reasonable temperature, shivering at the change. Andrew pressed his fingers to Neil’s forehead where the tile pattern was imprinted against his skin. His fingers tried to press them away. “What am I going to do with you?"

When they finally kissed, Neil nearly slipped in the tub as he grappled against the wet wall. Andrews arm came around his waist to steady him, and his other brought Neil’s hand to the back of his head, where Neil greedily pulled Andrew in until their chests were flat together and heaving as one. It was like every tense muscle, every coiling and aching organ slowly came undone. He felt himself being to shake with relief, but only held on to Andrew more firmly so he knew not to pull away. It ended too quickly anyway.

“You taste like smoke,” Andrew said. 

“So do you."

“Your friends are here."

Neil’s heart sunk. “All of them?” 

“They wouldn’t go to Abby’s, but I can make them leave."

“No, it’s alright.” He’d have to face them and their misplaced concern eventually. 

Andrew took his shoes and socks and left, leaving a shopping bag with newly bought clothes and shoes for Neil to change into.

At the bottom of the bag was Kevin’s watch and a crumpled piece of looseleaf with a note written on it. 

_“No excuses to be late to practice tomorrow."_

He slipped the watch on his wrist, shocked and embarrassed that Kevin had thought to give it to him. 

The living room was filled with noise but quieted as soon as he entered it. Andrew made his way to his side, impassive face still enough of a threat that only Allison was brave enough to ignore it.

“Oh, good. The Fox with nine lives finally graces us with his presence."

“Allison,” Renee chastised.

Neil preferred Allison's attitude to Matt’s or Nicky’s red eyes. He shrugged at her and said, “I told you I’d be here when you got back."

“What happened, Neil?” Dan asked. She was perched on an armchair next to Matt, her hands clenched into fists.

“How would he know?” Nicky said. “It’s not as if he _started_  the fire. Right, Neil?"

“I—What? No!"

“Of course you didn’t.” Dan glared at Nicky. "Did you see what did, though?” 

“I didn’t see anyone,” he said honestly. “But the fire spread quickly. It wasn’t natural."

He waited for them to catch on to what he was implying. He didn’t have any real proof that the fire was intentional, but he knew that it was. He knew it.

Nicky gasped, then gave a feeble laugh and said, “It _is_  a college dorm room, and alcohol is a highly flammable substance."

Neil shook his head. “Not flammable enough.” 

“Did you smell gasoline?” Renee asked. 

Neil tried to think back to when he first realized there was a fire. He had been napping after his run. He had definitely smelled smoke, and had been surprised to feel the heat of the then distant flame. He ’d known right away that something wasn’t right, that this wasn’t just a student who had left their toast in the oven for too long. _Danger_  was ringing through his body even before he had been fully conscious. 

He realized suddenly that Andrew had moved to stand in front of him. He dragged his gaze to Andrew’s golden eyes, let himself settle there before nodding and looking back at the others. 

“It’s okay, Neil. We don’t have to talk about any of this. Not right now.” Dan was standing as if to leave. 

“No I’m—, it’s okay.” As if to prove it, Neil said the one thing that was most important for them to hear. “I don’t think it was an accident. I think it was because of Riko.”

He could feel Andrew’s eyes boring into him, but it was Kevin that Neil needed to see. All color had drained from Kevin's face, his eyes hollowed as they stared at Neil. He knew what Kevin was thinking. All of this was supposed to be over. 

“That fucktart is dead.” Wymack said, ignoring the reproachful look Abby was giving him. He was watching Kevin with a hard look on his face. 

“His funeral was only a week ago. They couldn’t release his body right away. The fans' outrage could have been sparked by it. Or a fellow Raven might have decided it was time to take their revenge."

“Neil,” Renee said gently, “how sure are you that this wasn’t another enemy? That this isn’t the work of Wesninski’s men?"

“It’s not their style, “ he said simply. 

“Burning people alive isn’t their style?” Allison snorted. “The counter-evidence is right in front of us."

“Look, I know my father’s people, alright? You asked me to be honest with you and that’s all I’m trying to do."

“We know, but—"

Neil turned to Andrew, “Are we going back to Columbia?” 

“No."

Neil ground his teeth together but didn’t argue. “Can I borrow the car?"

“Neil, you don’t need to leave—“ Nicky started.

“I’m not. I’ll be back before it’s dark."

“Keys, Nicky.” Andrew said.

“Come on, Andrew.” Nicky looked nervously between him and Neil.

“Keys."

Nicky begrudgingly tossed them over to Andrew, who handed them to Neil. 

“Just give me twenty minutes,” he said. He hoped that Andrew didn’t need the promise, but he said it anyway. 

He didn’t drive far. There was a gas station on the other side of town that still had a working payphone at it. He bought an international calling card at the window, and then dialed the number that he’d been thinking about all day.

“Nathaniel?” came the voice at the other end.

Neil tugged at the cord. “Uncle Stewart. How did you know it was me?" 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Round and Round

Neil knew that he needed to sleep. The freshman dormitory that Palmetto State had thrown the student athletes in had a bed, a fan, and even an empty mini fridge left behind by the last occupant. Despite the high school theatre troupe sharing the floor with the Exy team, it was a dark, peaceful, fire-free night, and by all accounts it should have been quick and easy to drift off. 

He needed sleep to survive, to fight. But, something in him had changed, and it wasn't letting him. 

During his life as Nathaniel, there were months at a time when he had to be able to fall asleep on command, usually so that he and his mother could alternate driving without ever having to stop. She would toss a blanket into the backseat with him, turn the radio to something soft and old, and order him not to wake up for five hours at least. It was a useless order, because he would jolt awake at every pot hole or whenever his mother leaned on the horn too heavily, but he would just close his eyes again, find the emptiness of darkness and let it take him. 

His body hadn’t stopped pumping him with excess adrenaline since the fire-- already two days past. He knew if he didn’t start sleeping soon, he’d be too sluggish to keep up with Kevin at practice. He just needed his heart to slow. He just needed his leg to stop bouncing around as if it had a mind of its own. 

He just needed to run. 

So he did. At 2 AM, he pulled on his sneakers and a pair of running shorts and set off with only his keys, wallet and new cell-phone. 

He took the long path. He took all of the long paths. But, once Kevin’s watch told him it was past four, he knew he needed something more than running. 

The Foxhole Court welcomed him with bright lights and infinite echoes of his eager footsteps.

During game time, the court was a surreal experiment of a fantasy world Neil was still adjusting to. The court during a practice was like floating from the mouth of a river and into a vast ocean: full of possibilities and second chances. But the court at night, the court he only ever shared with Kevin and Andrew, was the court that gave him what right now he needed most: nothing. The chance to _be_  nothing and have that nothingness not matter. It was without the taunting reminders of the losses and wins already shared and which were sure to come again. All it demanded was movement, and Neil was desperate to provide. 

The hours passed without the court or Neil any the wiser. But, as he knew it would, exhaustion finally took him. 

He managed to shower, if only from habit, and lay down on the couch outside the changing room. His muscles were unforgiving, and his legs shook enough that he knew he couldn’t make it back to the dorms yet. But the couch was a better home than the bed was anyway. Finally, he slept. 

The ringing of his phone woke him up only three hours later. Neil sat up like a shot gun and was halfway out the door before he remembered it was Saturday. No practice that morning. He allowed himself only ten seconds to catch his breath, leaning against a half-empty bulletin board and feeling the papers tear beneath him, before remembering that he had received a text. It was Matt, with a simple question.

 

_Breakfast?_

 

Neil texted him back _Yes, pick me up from the court?_ , checked his pockets for his keys and wallet, and left to wait outside. 

He must have fallen asleep, because it was only seconds later that Matt was kneeling in front of him, tapping his shoulder lightly to wake him up, saying “You alright, Neil?"

“I’m just tired.”

 For someone like Neil, who had been starved of the relief of truth for so long, it was easy to forget when he was lying. When Matt offered his hand to help him up but continued to watch him worriedly, Neil knew that Matt wouldn’t push.

He decided to try and do better anyway. “I didn’t sleep much. I got up early for a run and ended up practicing for a while."

Matt shook his head but grinned. “Be careful. You’re going to wear yourself out before our next practice if you keep that up. And what would we do without our vice captain outshining us all?"

Neil followed Matt to his truck, and watched the early morning clouds fade as Matt drove them to the diner. 

Neil ordered two cups of coffee and Matt ordered them both the breakfast platter when it was clear Neil wasn’t planning on eating more than a serving of home fries. 

“You can’t live off caffeine and potatoes."

Neil shrugged. “Potatoes are fine. You could live off them for years."

Matt looked at Neil as if he had a question but was too afraid to ask it. Thankfully, Matt sidestepped his own concern and pushed the conversation forward. It was a skill that Neil admired and envied. Matt could guide flailing small talk into animated conversation as if the participants were sand in his hand. Neil thought that this might be one of the reasons why Andrew made Matt so uncomfortable, as Andrew had barely exchanged more than a sentence with Matt since coming off of his drugs. 

“I’m going with Dan to go visit it later, you should come with."

Neil accepted the coffee the waitress handed him, the aroma doing more for him in half a second than his nap at the court had after three hours. 

“Go where?"

“To Fox Tower. Or what remains of it.” Matt stabbed at his pancake as if it had been the cause of the fire. 

“Why?"

“Say goodbye. Maybe even get some closure."

“Closure?” Neil considered the word. It indicated putting what had happened to Fox Tower in the past, as if the end of the fire was the end of the problem. Neil couldn’t see how Matt thought that was possible with the culprit behind the fire still unknown and at-large. 

“It might help.” Matt considered Neil thoughtfully, swirling the same cut of pancake in maple syrup over and over until he finally seemed to decide what he wanted to say.

“I know the idea that this shit is still happening—— well it fucking terrifies _me_ , at least."

“Nothings going to happen to you, Matt. Not to you or Dan, or any of us.” Neil meant it to be reassuring. Instead, Matt froze, watching Neil almost fearfully.

“That’s not a promise any of us want you to even try to keep. Damn it, Neil. We want you safe, with us, and not off chasing down Ravens that got too carried away. Besides,” Matt gave a wide, boyishly arrogant grin, “I can take care of myself. We all can."

Neil shook his head, “It doesn’t always work that way. Strong-men get shot. Rangers get poisoned. Runners get distracted,” he raised his hand where burned knuckles and scarred wrists shone bright against his pale skin, and the grin on Matt’s face broke instantly. Neil didn’t feel bad for upsetting him, he was glad to get him back to being serious.

“This isn’t your father or the Yakuza,” Matt said. “If you’re right about it being a crazed Riko fan, then they had their fun and they’ll leave us be now, right? Don’t risk your life trying to protect us all, because this isn’t your fault."

Neil might not have been at fault--he could hardly sort those thoughts out at the moment-- but there was no doubt in his mind that he was to blame. He was the Foxes’ bait, trap, and soon-to-be executioner. 

He was finding it increasingly difficult to meet Matt’s eye. “I thought…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I just didn’t realize that there was another threat aimed at us still. I thought that Riko’s death was the last thing that needed to be taken care of. But there’s always something else. I shouldn’t have forgotten that.” 

Neil forced himself to finally look at Matt again. “I’m sorry. You lost a place that was your home for four years. I don’t know if I’m at fault, but I’m sorry. And, most importantly, I’ll fix it."

Matt stood up. Neil thought at first he was going to leave, but then Matt took the spot directly next to him on the booth. 

“Come here, kid." Matt wrapped his arms around Neil’s shoulders, folding Neil against his much wider chest. There was an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, something close to fear, but that wasn't quite the word. Even so, Neil found his hand lifting to around Matt's back, clutching at his shirt. 

“If you trust me,” Matt said, still holding Neil, “then trust me when I say that none of us blame you, and we’re all just thankful to have you here. All we want is for you to stay."

Neil was reminded of Andrew’s words to him in Baltimore only a few months ago. _You’re staying with us. If they try and take you away, they will lose._

“Okay,” he said. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else. He had put his faith in the Foxes and they hadn’t failed him yet. He could, at the very least, try their way first. 

Matt released him, and Neil tugged self consciously at his sleeves to make sure his scars were covered. “I’ll come with you to the tower."

Even though it had been Matt who made the offer originally, he looked uncertainly at Neil’s acceptance now. 

“I’m curious. Maybe you’ll be right and I’ll get...closure,” Neil said. 

“I’ll text Dan that we’re heading over there in a few."

“I’ll text Andrew."

* * *

 

He’d texted Andrew, and then texted Nicky in case he hadn’t passed on the message. The entire team ended up arriving at the dorm at the same time. 

They stood, shoulder to shoulder, various arms draped around various waists, and stared. The building was more in tact than Neil would have thought, but he’d never seen a brick building burn before. He thought he heard a few sniffs from someone to his right, but didn’t want to look to see who it was. 

He missed it. He wasn’t surprised about that. He counted the floors and the windows and found the common room for the cousins’, and most recently his own, suite. Through the blown out window panes and crumbling bricks, he could see where Andrew would stick his face out to smoke, where Kevin had thrown an Exy ball in anger and shattered the glass four times, where Andrew had pushed Neil down and unraveled him again and again and again. He watched all of these scenes flicker past the singed, fractured, irreparable wall like a video on repeat. 

“The new recruits are coming Monday,” Dan said quietly. "Coach was able to re-book all of their flights."

“Good,” said Kevin. “This is only a small set back."

“If even,” Allison huffed. “When we face the Ravens this semester, they’re going to wish they’d never flown south for the winter."

“Ravens don’t migrate,” Aaron corrected. 

“Fuck your science."

“ I think this is going to be a new beginning,” Renee said. “For all of us. Starting fresh will be nice."

“ I’m tired of starting fresh,” Nicky sighed. “But you’re right, Renee. We just have to change our attitude."

Next to Neil, Andrew wasn’t watching the building at all. He had been fishing in his pocket and had finally turned out a lighter for the cigarette already in his hand. Neil watched him, preferring the sight of Andrew putting the stick in his mouth to the ash-coated re-runs in his mind. Andrew had a second cigarette behind his ear. 

When Andrew flicked the lighter, Neil flinched. It was a small thing, barely a movement at all, and Neil kept his face stonily placid in hopes that no one had noticed. 

Andrew put away the lighter without it going near his unlit cigarette again. He turned away and started walking back to the car. 

“I’ve seen it. I’m leaving."

Neil wasn’t sure whether it was an invitation until Andrew had sat in the car for several seconds without driving away.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Neil said to his teammates.

As soon as they were out of the parking lot, Neil turned to Andrew and held out his hand. “Give me the lighter."

Andrew kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel. 

“I had two cups of coffee this morning already. I’m jumpy. This isn’t a permanent thing."

“You’re fine."

“I’m fine."

Andrew wasn’t driving back to the dorms. Instead, Neil recognized the route to the highway. Neil usually longed for these long drives with Andrew. Today, the thought of being so far from his team made him nauseous. 

“Can we pull over?"

Andrew moved onto the shoulder and put the car in park. He got out, moved to the front and climbed onto the hood. Neil stood in front of him, searching Andrew’s stoic face. He brought a hand up between them. Slowly, Neil reached towards Andrew. When Andrew didn’t pull away, he reached closer and took the cigarette that was still resting on Andrews ear, brushing the skin at his temple lightly with his thumb. It sent a shiver coursing through both of them.

Keeping eye contact, Neil put the cigarette in his mouth, and held his hand out in the little distance between them. 

“Let me try,” he asked when Andrew did not immediately give in.

Andrew handed him the lighter, and Neil flicked it on. He didn’t flinch, and if his heart raced a little at the sight of the flame, there was no physical evidence visible to anyone but himself. 

Triumphantly, he inhaled the smoke from the cigarette, let it tear through his throat and lungs.

“See?” he said. 

He took one more inhale of the smoke, and turned away to blow it into the wind. When Andrew remained immobile and silent, Neil took the cigarette out of his mouth, and brought it up to Andrew’s own. Andrews lips parted willingly and Neil placed it gently between them. He shifted closer as Andrew took his first puff, and let it out straight into Neil’s face. Neil closed his eyes but let the smell fill him until he felt Andrew’s hand brush his cheek, find his lips and press two fingers against them. 

“You’re an idiot. Don’t try and prove anything to me. I will not believe you.” 

Neil sighed, but he couldn’t defend himself, because Andrew’s fingers moved to the back of his neck and pulled him in, and his lips forgot that they had any other purpose but kissing Andrew, tasting Andrew, memorizing the texture of his lips, and matching Andrew’s fervor with his own furious hunger. 

Too soon, they broke apart. Normally, Neil was happy with whatever Andrew was willing to give him at the moment, but this was not the first time that he felt that Andrew was holding back for Neil’s benefit, instead of his own. 

“I’m pissed, Andrew, but I’m not hurt. This,” he leaned back to Andrew so their noses nearly touched, “this takes all of that away."

“This isn’t always an option for that,” Andrew said simply, his hand tightening in Neil’s hair as if in warning.

“I know.”

Neil dropped the lighter into Andrew’s lap. Andrew didn’t glance at it, but released his grip so Neil could step back an inch. “I need to know,” Neil said fiercely. 

The cigarette in Andrew’s hand had gone out. Andrew put it in his mouth and picked up the lighter. 

“Yes or no, Neil?" 

“Yes.” He tried to put as much honest conviction behind the word as he could.

He kept his eyes on the lighter as Andrew rose it to the cigarette, unwilling to blink. 

Andrew flicked it. It ignited. 

Neil flinched. 

Neil only let a second go by. “It doesn’t matter. We both know I’m going to do whatever it takes for a cigarette between my fingers.” He grinned bitterly. “A man can only have so many problems."

Andrew had been busy packing away the lighter and the cigarette, but froze at Neil’s words.

“That’s not how it works.”

Something broke inside Neil, and the frayed whip of fury that had lashed against his chest only a few days before struck again. He turned away from Andrew, unwilling to let the poison inside him spread. 

“If you want someone to tell you that everything is going to be sunshine and roses, go to Nicky.” 

“That’s not what I want,” Neil bit out.

“Neil. Look at me.” 

He did. Andrew had slid off the car but stayed standing barely inches from Neil. He brought his hand to the nape of Neil’s neck, and tugged it so their foreheads touched. 

“Do you see me leaving?” he asked.

“No,” Neil said, confused. 

“Are you going to leave?"

“No— Andrew— No—“ 

“Then stop. Stop all of this."

It took a moment for Neil to understand what Andrew meant. They were both there, together, alive.  That was what Neil had to focus on right now. That was all Andrew really required of him. 

He let out a shaky breath. “Okay."

Andrew held his gaze for a moment longer, then headed back to the car. 

“Where are we going?” he asked once Neil had buckled. 

Neil considered it. “Back to campus.” 

Andrew pulled the car into a U-turn and began the drive back to Palmetto State. 

“Your phone,” Andrew began.

Neil lifted it to show that he had it. Andrew had given it to him the day before as a replacement for the one he’d lost. It was the same make and model as the last one, as far as he could tell. 

“Bee is programmed in your speed dials."

Andrew had programmed her in the last phone, also. Neil had promptly deleted the number. His opinion of the doctor may have increased slightly since she had started working with Andrew and Aaron, but he had no interest in pursuing anything further with her. 

“Do not be a martyr, Josten."

Neil looked at him confusedly. “Who am I sacrificing myself for?"

“ I have yet to figure that out."

"But you'll solve me," Neil grinned.

"Yes. Maybe it is just your pride. Although I had not realized you had any."

At that moment, the phone in question rang. The number didn’t show up on the screen, but Neil picked up immediately. 

“Uncle Stuart,” he said, and Andrew’s attention snapped to him fully. Neil gestured to the road to remind him to keep them both alive. 

_"I have what you asked for. When can you meet?"_

"You're in town?"

" _Raleigh, for the next few days."_

Neil mouthed _"Pen"_  at Andrew, who popped open the glove compartment and handed him a pencil and notebook.

Neil took down the address that his Uncle was staying at and they decided on a time to meet the next day.

"Did you get the combo?" he asked.

_"Nathaniel, whatever you're planning, let me help. It's the least I can do."_

"You don't owe me anything. Besides, I don't have anything planned, there's just something I need to check."

There was silence on the other end, then " _Two-Fifteen-Fifty-Seven_ "

"Thank you."

When they hung up, Andrew was pulling into the parking lot closest to the dorm that they were staying in. 

"I'm going to North Carolina tomorrow. Want to make it a road trip?"

Andrew looked at him boredly, then let out a low hum.

"What?"

"Hop, hop, little rabbit."

Neil frowned. "I'm not being a rabbit."

"No, you are being a hunter."

Neil grinned. "A fox, you mean."

Andrew tapped on the paper where Neil had written down the combination key.

"One with treasures left to uncover, it would seem."

The numbers were familiar in an uncomfortable way, but it took Neil a minute to realize why.

"It's my father's birthday." He lifted the page closer as if  focusing on the numbers would somehow change them. "This is a key to one of my mother's lock boxes. The combination and location was in my binder, but I never really looked at it."

Neil traced the ink with his thumb, not sure what to make of this information. 

"Mary Hatford," Andrew mused, "a romantic."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented/subscribed! I'm glad you are excited about this. I promise the next chapter has some more action to it-- hopefully it will be posted by the end of the week!


	3. Everytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil and Andrew roadtrip to Raleigh

Stuart Hatford was not a man afraid of panache, and this surprised Andrew. The English gangster apparently preferred to stay in five star hotels with peacock curtains flanking the lobby doors and parrots caged by the entrances to enchant the frivolous customers as they came back from playing golf and destroying their enemies.

Neil didn't seem surprised, but he had still chosen to wear his so-faded-they're-no-longer-blue jeans with hems frayed to threads.

As they drove the Maserati up to the hotel lobby, Andrew concentrated on thinking about anything besides a cigarette. He could feel his irritability rising every second without one. Everything he touched turn to sandpaper against his skin. Denying himself nicotine was putting his self-control at risk right before he was about to walk with Neil into a meeting with at least one murderous gangster and, if he were smart, he would walk away for two minutes for a few drags and a moment of privacy.

But every time he had made up his mind to leave, an image of Neil bleeding and broken entered unbidden into his mind. And, oh--the images came so easily. Neil had supplied him with enough bloodied memories that he could realistically piece together almost any gruesome scenario without much effort on the part of his imagination.  

Andrew pushed away the desire to grab Neil's neck, to feel the strength of the pulse above his collar bone. Now was a bad time for that. He did not want to know what Neil's skin would feel like when Andrew felt like this.

"I've been trying to work out whether bringing you into this is putting you into more danger," Neil said shallowly. "The Moroyiamas already know about you, and you're already a target for whoever is doing all this because you're a Fox."

"And it only took you a four hour drive to consider this."

"No," Neil shot him an irritated look, "I've been thinking about it since yesterday."

"I'm surprised. Your brain probably isn't used to thinking about anything besides Exy for more than a minute."

Neil looked out towards the hotel, hands flexing on the steering wheel. Andrew wasn't sure whether he could trust him not to lash out on someone who said the wrong thing to him, which meant Andrew wouldn't trust him to go in alone.

Andrew got out of the car. 

Neil followed, handing the keys to a man in a pink vest. He waited to see where the valet parked it, fiddling with something in his pocket that Andrew realized were his own pair of car keys. He had most certainly left them back in the dorms.

Andrew snatched the keychain out of the pocket, hanging it in the air between them with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m being prepared,” Neil huffed, reaching to grab them back only for Andrew to hold them farther away.

“For bad valet service? Now, now, Neil. Everyone has to make a living. We can’t be judgmental.”

Andrew gripped the keys tightly as Neil ground his jaw, as if debating how to respond.

“In case we need to leave faster than the valet wants us to,” he finally said, shrugging.

“Of course. Silly me. How could I forget to prepare for a quick get away.”

Once Neil was satisfied that he had the spot memorized, they headed into the hotel to find the restaurant. Andrew slowed as they passed the parrot in the cage and wondered what the point was of gawking at something so stupid looking. 

"Does it bother you?" Neil asked him. Not for the first time, Andrew was caught off guard in realizing that Neil had been observing him.

"I hate birds," he gave as answer, and led the way inside. 

The restaurant hostess seemed to be waiting for Neil and ushered them both to a booth against a wall of mirrors where Stuart Hatford was sitting, wearing a fedora. Andrew was not up to date on British fashion, but he wanted to tear the hat off the man's head and rip it to bits with Stuart watching, just to see how he might react.

They didn't waste time with pleasantries, which Andrew might have appreciated if he had the patience. 

"The Moriyamas are sending down protection. For you and Day."

Andrew snorted. Neil ignored him and Stuart barely spared him a glance.

"I don't want it. We don't need trigger happy guns for hire making the situation worse."

"Tough luck explaining that to the chaps who own your ass."

Andrew fingered the steak knife in front of him. The knives under his armbands were a comforting weight, but wielding a steak knife had a certain flair to it he though Stuart might appreciate.

"Can they be talked down?" Neil asked.

"Not yet. They don't want to waste too much time or money on an asset that hasn't started turning profit for them, but they have enough resources that it's worth sparing a man or two for now."

"How generous," Andrew said. His words were meant only for Neil, so he spoke in German instead. "You're just above the value of a stolen garden gnome to them."

Neil's look was controlled as he glanced at Andrew. Andrew was impressed by his calm facade. A rarity that Andrew had yet to witness. 

"Then we'll have to work on them later," Neil said to Stuart. "But it can't last any longer than it has to."

Stuart chuckled, yellowed teeth just barely showing as his lips tilted up.

"I don't particularly care about the Moriyamas right now, though," Neil said.

 "Don't start fretting, Nathaniel. I've brought everything you asked for." Stuart bent to open the briefcase sitting by his feet. 

"I do not like that he calls you that," Andrew said quietly. 

"It's how he knows me," Neil shrugged, obligingly answering in German. Andrew wasn’t fooled

"It is not your name."

"Here you are." Stuart slid Neil a small, blue binder. 

Andrew couldn't tear his eyes from it. 

"Thank you." 

He'd been glad that the last binder had burned. Here was another Hatford passing on a new one.  

"Everything, including the, er, dates, is in there."

If he noticed the loaded glance that his uncle sent Andrew during that pause, Neil didn't mention it. Stuart clearly wasn't interested in divulging secrets to Andrew, which worked for Andrew just fine at the moment. It was fine.

Neil placed a hand protectively over the laminated plastic, tapping at the edge as if he could barely wait to rip it open. Andrew considered tearing it away and tossing it out the window, but Stuart could likely put together another mysterious binder with relative ease. 

"I owe you."

Andrew made a note to tell Neil later that this was, in fact, not the fucking truth.

"We're family, this is what we do. And I'm not going to just hand you a few pieces of paper and be done with it. If I can find the cause of this trouble, I plan on handling the louse myself."

"Look at what you inspire," Andrew said to Neil, giving the steak knife a twirl and watching Stuart try and decipher whether what he was saying might be threatening. 

He pressed on as if Andrew hadn't spoken. "Your deal with Ichirou was smart, but it has made relationships.... complicated. But that doesn't mean you don't always have a place with us, Nathaniel."

Andrew brought the tip of the knife down in the table less than half an inch from Stuart's thumb. Neil jumped up out of his seat, whether in a misguided attempt to protect Andrew or out of concern for his uncle's safety, Andrew wasn't sure. He let the knife go but it had gone in deep enough that it stayed satisfactorily in place.

"His name is Neil," Andrew said in English, face schooled in perfect impassivity. "Perhaps you have forgotten."

Stuart looked at the knife curiously, then waved to someone over his shoulder. A woman at the table next to them had sat up half way in her seat, hand resting on a spot on her hip under her coat. Stuart had brought back-up. How interesting. 

The woman sat but Neil did not, and he looked wildly between Andrew and his uncle. Andrew told himself he didn't care what Neil did next, but stayed silent to see how it played out, satisfied that he had made the point he wanted to make.

"And do you share your guard dog's opinion, nephew? Should I call you by a name other than the one my sister gave you?"

Neil flushed a deep red, and a chill settled over his eyes that would make most of their teammates quiver. "I am beyond grateful for your help and support," he started slowly, "so you can call me whatever you like. But Andrew is here because I asked him to be and if you insult him again, then we're done here." He said it matter-of-factly, as if Stuart should be clear that this wasn't a threat, just an inevitable truth. 

Stuart laughed, and the sound came close to making Andrew's stomach turn. "Good to know."

"We're done," Andrew bit out. 

"I'll be in touch, kid." Stuart raised his glass to Neil in a toast. "Be smart."

"Right," Neil muttered, turning away.  

Andrew led them out of the restaurant and back towards the valet. He could practically hear Neil's mind whirring next to him. Neither of them said anything as they waited for the car. 

When it came, Neil left to take the driver's side again. Andrew watched him start the car from where he stood by the entryway to the lobby. The parrot squeaked meekly next to him, and the sound made Andrew want to put it out of his misery.

"Fucking birds." 

Andrew flipped the lock and pushed the cage door open with a single finger. He waited to make sure that the idiot creature was aware of his change in fate before following Neil to the Maserati.

Neil tore away from the curb before the door was shut.

He expected Neil to pester him with questions in his usual impertinent way, but Neil remained silent until they got to the highway.

"We have one more stop to make."

"The bank," Andrew guessed.

"For the record, I'd rather you don't kill my uncle the next time you see him."

"He's a leech."

"He's trying to help me."

"You are more naive than I thought if you believe he's motivated by anything but self interest."

"He had six guns in the room, Andrew. What would you do about that? Kill them one by one with your knives?"

"Yes."

The bank ended up being in a small town that barely qualified as that. Neil didn't even have to show ID to get into the lockbox. He put in the combination and for a moment, Andrew let himself believe that it wouldn't open.

But it did. A black scarf was wrapped around a package the size of Andrew's two fists. Neil shoved it in his pocket without checking it.

He didn't look at it again until they had driven several miles away. He pulled over on the shoulder of the exit that would take them back onto the highway.

Andrew watched Neil set aside the scarf carefully, and unwrap the brown packaging underneath.

Andrew had seen enough movies to know what a wad of wrapped cash looked like. His suspicious were confirmed as the paper ripped to reveal two stacks of green twenties.

Neil counted the bills carefully. "It's all here. Ten grand."  Neil considered the bills, frowning. "It was our decoy stash. If someone tracking us found out about this, they might think the rest of the money is hidden similarly. Plus, it would be easy to get to if there were ever an emergency. The rest is buried in deserts and hidden underneath cement floors."

"What is the point of stealing money you can't use?"

Neil frowned as if he didn't understand. "She did plan on using it. But she needed it to last for decades. Our whole life." 

Mary Hatford's style of running was unbelievably unsustainable. Andrew wished she was alive just so he could kill her for being so stupid and short sighted.

He itched for a cigarette and settled for silence. 

 

It was past eight when Neil and Andrew finally reached campus. They had picked up food at a rest stop on the way, but Nicky bombarded them almost as soon as they got off the elevator begging for ice cream. 

"I'm going to stay here," Neil said. "No, really, Nicky, Andrew knows what I like."

"I'm sure he does, but we're talking about _ice cream_ here."

And so Andrew ended up right back in the car, his cousin yammering in his ear.

He’d had a cigarette lit before he even got outside. The smoke sent relief flowing through him like warm water trickling down his veins, but the hours without it and the time spent with the Hatford family had left his nerves too raw for a single cigarette to be enough. It was all he could do to ignore Nicky's incessant questions and keep at least one hand on the wheel. The effort was a welcome distraction, as it left very little energy to dwell on the more exciting events of the day. 

He considered blasting the radio, but let Nicky gossip on uninhibited. Perhaps his tolerance was higher than usual because of Nicky inexplicably frequent disappearances since summer break had started. Andrew had considered several reasons for this, including Nicky's nauseating adoration of his and Neil's business and therefore desire to give them space, but that only accounted for a few of the Nicky-less time periods. No pattern had yet to make itself evident to Andrew.

He spared a quick glance at Nicky to check for injuries or bags under his eyes, but he seemed his usual disappointingly perky self. 

Once they got to the drug store, Andrew wandered around as Nicky collected a variety of ice cream flavors for the team. Andrew tossed his own tub of chocolate from hand to hand, letting the frost numb his fingers. He didn't need anything in particular, but found himself in the aisle with first-aid supplies and considered whether it was worth getting a kit to keep at the dorm. There wasn’t anything there that would be particularly useful in life threatening situations. 

He moved past the Band-Aids and was happy to move past the pain killers as swiftly when something caught his eye.

There were two cabinets and six shelves dedicated to all things nicotine: nicotine gum, patches, a proclaimed miracle nicotine bracelet. 

Again and again, the memory of Neil flinching at the sound of the lighter played in front of him, bookended by Neil's stubborn assertion that he could handle it. That he was fine.

Andrew knew it was never a successful exchange-- pain for pleasure. Neil could force himself to deal with being around lighters all he wanted, but he was a fool if he thought it was something he could just build up tolerance against. He'd feel every lash of panic harder every time, until he was either numb or consumed by it. 

Neil, Neil, Neil. He had no fucking clue. 

"Andrew?" 

Andrew blinked a few times before turning to face his cousin. Nicky looked at him with wide, dumbstruck eyes.

Andrew put the box he hadn’t realized he’d grabbed back on the shelf. It was dented where he had been holding it. 

"Shut your mouth. You’ll catch a fucking airplane like that.”

He did at first, but as Andrew walked by him towards the check-out he looked at him nervously and asked, "Where did you and Neil go today?"

It wasn't the first time Nicky had asked, but Andrew hadn't said a word to him in the ride over. "Ask him."

"So it's a secret? If he-- "

"It's none of your business."

"Andrew--"

Andrew could hear the fear in Nicky's plea.

"Yes, Nicky?" 

Andrew fixed him with a hard, challenging stare.

It was enough to quell whatever bravery was left in his cousin.

 

When they finally got back to the dorms, Nicky tossed Andrew the bag with Neil's ice cream and ran off before Andrew could do anything about it. 

Neil let him in without hesitation and took the tub from Andrew’s hands, fumbling with the plastic seal. Andrew watched him work on it, spooning his own chocolate into his mouth lazily. Neil's head dipped and his hair bobbed as he struggled, and the single lit lamp cast animate shadows all around him, several dozen stubborn Neils enthusiastically using their teeth to rip the plastic off. 

Once it tore, Andrew watched as Neil inexplicably chose the flimsy wooden spoon taped to the bottom of the tub to eat the rocky road instead of the sturdier metal spoon on the desk next to him.  

Andrew sat on the bed and reached over Neil's shoulder to scoop some of the rocky road for himself. Neil shifted in the desk chair so he was facing Andrew-- so his ice cream was facing him, too. They sat like that for several minutes, alternating flavors and listening to each other's silence. In Neil's quiet, Andrew heard the unsurprising suppression of worry, the fixation on the task at hand-- whatever it was that was dominating his mind at the moment. Andrew didn't mind the silence, he so often preferred it, but he found himself unable to decipher the slight crease in Neil's forehead.  

He tapped his spoon to the back of Neil's hand to get his attention. Neil obliged, watching Andrew curiously. Andrew raised a hand to Neil's brow and poked it.

Neil responded by slowly feeding Andrew a marshmallow packed spoon. 

Neil took both of their tubs and placed them on his desk, and Andrew took Neil's jaw with both hands and dragged him to the bed by the mouth.

Their tongues exchanged sweetness and warm relief. Andrew could not get Neil as close to himself as he wanted, so he put Neil's arms around his back so he wouldn't be the only one tugging closer and closer. 

A shaky breath escaped Neil as Andrew parted for air. He buried his nose in the crook of Andrew's neck, keeping the rest of his body careful inches away. 

"You smell like smoke," he rasped out, and dug his face deeper against him.

One track mind, as always. Andrew kissed him again to shut him up.

In each kiss, Andrew was able to release small drops of the molten emotions he'd buried that day. He knew Neil felt the fire, knew that on some level it must burn him. Their lips bruised and their teeth clashed and their noses helplessly smashed against nose and cheekbones.

 _This is what is required for us_ , Andrew thought. _This insatiable need for self-destruction._

But then Neil's lips left his own and found Andrew's jaw instead, trailed their way down to his neck, and Andrew was aware of something building inside him just as much as something was collapsing.

When a shudder overcame him, he pulled Neil away.

As always, Neil looked both joyous and fearful as he searched Andrew's face for the reason he'd been made to stop.

Andrew considered what words he might want to say. There were none.

But he kept his hands immersed in Neil's hair, so Neil relaxed, letting out a low hum Andrew was sure he wasn't conscious of doing.

It was inevitable that his gaze started to drift, that they would find the small binder Stuart Hatford has tossed to them earlier that day. And it was inevitable, too, that Neil would realize Andrew's attention was occupied, would search for the line of his gaze.

And so they both ended up staring at the binder in silence, limbs entangled together, ensnared by warm blankets and sheets, chests rising and falling in sync, but hands frozen against each other’s' chests, as heavy and unsure as the thoughts in their heads.

"Tell me," Andrew said finally.

Neil reached for the binder, then seemed to think better of it and instead sat up against the headboard, crossing and then uncrossing his arms once he realized what he was doing.

"I haven't decided,” Neil began. He did not speak for at least another minute, but Andrew just kept his gaze locked on Neil's rapidly transforming face as it journeyed from fury to confusion to fear and then fury again.

"I haven't decided how to handle this."

"Planning ahead is not your strong suit."

He meant it as the truth, but he hadn't realized how many truths that the statement had for Neil. They all seemed to be driven to the front of his mind from Andrew's words, his face folding into taught lines as he fought to keep them back. 

"I never had to. I was... impassive at best when on the run with Mom. Useless, most of the time."

"Imagine, a fifteen-year-old who is unprepared to take on a serial killer and the mob."

Neil shook his head. "I didn't even know that my mom was dying until it was too late. I didn't do anything to help her. I was useless when Riko threatened you, and I was given a warning everyday last winter and still didn't do anything to prevent my father from taking me to Baltimore. It was pathetic. I--"

Neil's breath quickened and Andrew saw how loosely Neil was tethered to the moment. Andrew grasped the back of Neil's neck to become that temporary tether. 

"I know it's unreasonable to think that I could have saved Mom, or stopped Lola and my father, but I spent so much time just trying to _live_ last year that I was okay with dying after. 

"Now you and everyone else are in danger again. And now that I don't have to put so much effort into living... I want to do _more_ than nothing."

Something uncomfortable was gathering at the base of Andrew's stomach. Something gnawing, something familiar that was responding like a snake to a charmer. 

He'd had this conversation before. With himself, several years before coming to Palmetto State. He had asked himself what in the hell he _possibly_ wanted, what the hell was it all for. _Anything more,_  he had told himself. _Just a little bit more than nothing would be enough._

Neil lifted his head to meet Andrew's eyes. Andrew didn't know how, but whatever Neil saw there seemed to give him strength, as he shuffled his legs to sit a little straighter, his cheeks looking a little more happily plump instead of tight and gaunt.

Andrew marked all this mentally, categorizing the moment with all the other absurd things Neil did that Andrew couldn't quite understand. 

"I've got tomorrow's practice to think about, too."

"And where does Exy land among your priorities? Before or after playing suicidal detective?"

"Before."

Neil had a tell, so Andrew always knew when he was about to become the snarky, boisterous boy reporters fell in love with. He'd dip his chin and press his lips together, fearful of his own toothy smirk, before rising triumphant with nostrils flaring.

He was doing none of that when he said, "You come before it all. Every time."

The snake in Andrew's stomach coiled around his chest and turned the muscle there to scales.

"I mean it."

Blood slowed in his veins, stilled completely-- leaving his hands cold, his face cold, his entire body cold.

They both let the silence sit until it was stale, and then they marinated together in the ugliness of it. Andrew shifted so his back would be against the wall, pressed it there hard until he could feel his bones protesting, until there was something okay to feel besides the nothing frozen in him. 

But it wasn't _just_ nothing. That was a lie he’d used to armor himself. To humor himself.  But any lie was a weakness and this was a lie he was working to get rid of. Nothing was most of it, but among the thick emptiness was a seed -- a dangerous, potentially potent, but very small seed. Every time Neil said something stupid like that, it dug deeper. It grew. 

_Don't bury it._

"Shut up," Andrew said once he felt safe enough to open his mouth. 

"I haven't said anything," Neil said. He hadn't, but he hadn't looked away from Andrew, gaze unrelenting and raw, even when he'd noticed Andrew inching away and he'd dragged himself to the edge of the mattress so that their only physical contact was the hand Andrew kept grasped against Neil's skull. Now, Neil's lips quirked, and Andrew tugged at the soft, damp hair at the nape of his neck. 

"Haven't you learned by now? That mouth of yours will get you into trouble."

Neil grinned, leaning his head backwards in a silent laugh so shadows danced with his bobbing Adam's apple. It was enough to bring warmth back to Andrew's skin. 

“I’m always in trouble.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t.”

“At least I’m not boring,” Neil said, sliding his body down the bed so he was eye level with Andrew.

“We’ll see,” Andrew said. He kissed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! Andrew is a challenge to write for, but a worthy one.


End file.
